


maybe we can find a place to feel good

by alexdetwinkat (MakeBreakfastNotWar)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Career Ending Injuries, Established Alex DeBrincat/Dylan Strome, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Therapy, all three ships are endgame, lots of emotions, the rest happen over the course of the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeBreakfastNotWar/pseuds/alexdetwinkat
Summary: When Connor's career ended abruptly he pushed everyone away. Now he's going home a little over a year later, and it's time to face the world (or at least, Mitch and Dylan).
Relationships: Alex DeBrincat/Dylan Strome, Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome, Mitch Marner/Connor McDavid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If your name or anyone you know is in the tags, please click away. 
> 
> This fic deals with a career-ending injury but there are no graphic descriptions of said injury. I don't have a medical degree so all discussion of the injury is vague to avoid misinformation.
> 
> Shoutout to Olive ([dharma_club](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma_club/pseuds/dharma_club)) and Kit ([splatticus](https://archiveofourown/users/splatticus/pseuds/splatticus)) for listening to me ramble and giving this structure, I couldn't do it without them.
> 
> Title is from Treat People With Kindness by Harry Styles.

_ McDavid to Return Home _

_ July 1, 2020 _

_ The Edmonton Oilers have traded Connor McDavid to the Toronto Maple Leafs in exchange for a sixth-round pick in 2021. Toronto also gets a first-round and second-round pick in 2021, and a conditional first-round pick in 2022. _

_ Following a career-ending injury in April 2019, McDavid spent the last year working with the Oilers medical staff and it's expected that he'll continue his rehab in Toronto. The Leafs can buy out his contract at any time, and no one would be surprised to see Kyle Dubas turn around and hire the former Next Great One on as part of Toronto's development… _

Dylan is on the balcony of their Toronto apartment when Alex hands over his phone with the article pulled up. He's vaguely aware of his boyfriend taking his free hand, anchoring him as he scans the headline. Dylan sits down heavily on the patio chair behind him and reads, Alex now casting a shadow as he stands over him. There are details about draft picks and LTIR, but the bottom line is that Davo is coming home. Without conscious thought Dylan pulls his own phone out of his pocket and fires off a text asking when Connor is in town. 

As soon as he sends it he remembers that they don't really talk anymore. The last message he got from Connor was a sad face in April when the Hawks were eliminated from playoff contention. Scrolling up he sees that the last time they had a full conversation was last August. He skims through their messages between then and now, remembering how it went down as he reads. It wasn't like Connor ghosted him, he still responded, but the replies began to take hours and then days when it used to be minutes. Dylan could take a hint. 

He can hardly blame Connor for pulling away from the hockey world after everything that went down. Still, he can't bring himself to regret texting now. Maybe things will be different with Connor nearby. Even if they're not, Dylan doesn't know if he can bring himself to stay away. 

  
  
  


Connor's phone lights up with a new text and he almost ignores it until he sees who it's from. With a surge of guilt he unlocks his phone, fully prepared to be reamed out for not telling his best friend that he was being traded to their hometown. Instead he finds that Dylan just wants to know when he'll be back, and Connor is struck by how fiercely he misses his friend. 

It was easy enough to heed his therapist's advice when it came to rebuilding his friendships in Edmonton, but it was even easier to ignore the rest of the world until they got the hint and stopped reaching out. He never managed to cut Dylan off completely, but there's a distance now that never used to exist between them. 

Connor suddenly wishes he had never encouraged that distance to build up. Before he loses his nerve, he responds with his moving date. Soon enough they have plans to hang out the following week when Connor is settled in. He doesn’t quite believe it can really be that easy, but at least it’s a start. 

He's still thinking about the conversation when his phone starts ringing in his hand. It seems today is the day for people he hasn’t spoken to in months to get in touch. Connor supposes he should have expected this when he told the Oilers that Toronto was his first choice if they were exploring the option of moving his contract. He almost hesitates too long and misses the call, but he manages to pick it up on the last ring. 

“Hey Marns, what’s up?”

“Davo!” Mitch greets. “I heard you’re coming to Toronto is what’s up. Thought I’d call and find out where you’re gonna be staying, if you need a place to crash or help with the move or anything.” 

Mitch seems content to carry on as if they chat regularly and nothing has changed, glossing over the fact that Connor hasn’t spoken to anyone outside his family and the Oilers organization in months. He goes on for another minute about where his own apartment is and when he would be free to help before Connor can get a word in.

“Thanks man, but I’m actually just staying with my parents for now so I’m not bringing that much stuff,” Connor says. 

“Right, right, that makes sense,” Mitch muses. “Well when do you get back?”

“This Friday.”

“Do you want to go apartment hunting on Sunday?”

“Dude,” Connor says, “I just told you I’m staying with my parents.”

“I meant apartment hunting for _ me _,” Mitch says, and Connor can hear the grin in his voice. “Just because you’re McJesus doesn’t mean the world revolves around you.” 

He says it so casually, without an ounce of pity or guilt in his voice, that Connor sputters out a laugh instead of tensing up like he usually does when people try to skirt around the subject of hockey or his injury. He finds himself agreeing to look for apartments with Mitch, and they talk for a few more minutes before hanging up. 

Connor makes a note in his calendar and sets his phone down. He now has more social plans in the span of two days than he’s had in the last two months in Edmonton. 

With that in mind he picks his phone back up and fires off an email to his therapist to book an appointment when he's back in the GTA. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have the first few chapters written, I'll try to update weekly at least until I finish the writing, at which point I'll get impatient and post all the rest of the chapters in the span of a few days ✌️


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is in the middle of changing his shirt for the third time when the doorbell rings downstairs, fifteen minutes early. He can hear his mom greeting Mitch as he buttons up the green henley he's settled on. 
> 
> It's not that Connor is particularly nervous, it's only Mitch after all. He just doesn't want to make a bad impression on anyone at the apartments they're seeing and cost Mitch the perfect place.

Connor is in the middle of changing his shirt for the third time when the doorbell rings downstairs, fifteen minutes early. He can hear his mom greeting Mitch as he buttons up the green henley he's settled on. 

It's not that Connor is particularly nervous, it's only Mitch after all. He just doesn't want to make a bad impression on anyone at the apartments they're seeing and cost Mitch the perfect place. When he gets to the kitchen where he can hear voices, he realizes he needn't have worried.

Mitch is leaning on the counter in jeans and a band t-shirt, chatting with Connor's mom.  _ At least his jeans don't have holes in them _ , Connor thinks. When Mitch catches sight of Connor he lights up, crossing the room in two strides to give him a bro-hug. 

"Good to see you, bro," Mitch says as he steps back. "I was just catching up with your mom, it's been too long."

"Yeah, for sure," Connor agrees. Before his mom can jump in with a comment about whose fault that is, like he knows she wants to, he gestures over his shoulder towards the door. "Should we head out?"

"Sure," Mitch says, following him to the front.

Connor sits on the bench in the hall to put on his shoes, and when he sees that Mitch is ready to go he grabs his cane and leads the way outside. He glances over to see if Mitch is going to say anything about the cane, or worse, get awkward and avoid even looking at it as though he's not allowed to know it exists. Connor's received both reactions and neither is fun, but Mitch just strolls over to the car oblivious of his friend's scrutiny. 

Connor assumed that Mitch only wanted him along for the company, but when they get to the first showing Mitch seems keen to get his opinion. So Connor dutifully checks the water pressure in the shower, and then points out that the unit is East-facing so Mitch is going to be blinded every morning. 

"Which I guess some people like," he tacks on when he sees Mitch's face fall a bit. "If you like to wake up with the sun more power to you, it's your place."

"Let's see the next one," Mitch decides. 

In the elevator up to the next place Mitch swipes Connor's cane as he's leaning against the wall. He tries to balance it on his knuckles entirely unsuccessfully, making a ridiculous face as he concentrates. He manages to keep it up for about five seconds and he gives a sweeping bow, tossing the cane back just before they reach their floor. Connor catches it in surprise, barely suppressing a grin.

"You know you didn't actually get it, right?" he teases as they walk down the hall.

"Are you kidding?" Mitch demands. "Bro. I totally had it balanced for like, thirty seconds." 

"More like half a second," Connor scoffs. 

Mitch looks like he wants to argue more but the person showing them the unit opens the door at that moment, and he drops it. 

This one is South-facing which is an instant improvement in Connor's opinion, but the kitchen is pretty small. When he points that out Mitch decides to move on pretty quickly. 

They go through three more places that way, with Mitch losing interest in each apartment once Connor has pointed out a flaw. At one point he tries to figure out what it is that Mitch is looking for, but it's not a very productive conversation.

"Y'know, just a nice place," Mitch hedges.

"What's wrong with all the places we've looked?" 

"Everything you talked about, the lighting and the kitchen and the water pressure and all that."

"But you didn't even notice that stuff until I pointed it out," Connor says. "Would any of it really have bothered you if I hadn't said anything?"

"I mean, probably," Mitch says. "It just didn't occur to me until you said it. That doesn't mean it wouldn't bug me in the long run."

At that point Connor gives up, knowing he's not going to get any further. Mitch continues to insist that Connor share his insights for the rest of the day, so he does. 

It's not until they get to the final unit for the day that Connor realizes they've been backtracking across the city all afternoon. This place is just two streets over from the place they saw second, but instead of going in any logical order they seem to have jumped around spending as much time in the car as possible. His suspicions are all but confirmed when Mitch elects to take the elevator even though this unit is only on the second floor. 

On the way home Connor tries to decide if he's annoyed that Mitch has been accommodating for his bad knee in little ways all day. On the one hand he generally likes to have some agency in deciding what his limits are and whether to push them. On the other hand, Mitch has been so low key about the whole thing that it took Connor all day to notice, and he hasn't done or said anything uncomfortable or awkward. It's pretty rare that someone makes it through an entire day around Connor without putting their foot in their mouth these days, so he decides not to spoil it. He can always bring it up with Mitch another time if it keeps happening. 

They part ways after Mitch extracts a promise from Connor to come over and play video games sometime soon. When Connor gets inside he still feels surprisingly energetic, so he helps his mom with dinner instead of going up to his room. And if his parents notice anything out of the ordinary, they wisely choose not to comment on it.

  
  
  


Connor means to sleep in the next day since Dylan isn't showing up until after lunch, but he finds himself wide awake by 9a.m. 

He does his physio exercises and responds to an email from his therapist. 

He tidies his room and unloads the dishwasher. 

It's only 10:30. 

Connor is glad his parents are both working and not around to see him like this. He can admit that he's a bit more nervous about seeing Dylan than he was about seeing Mitch yesterday. Even before his injury he and Mitch often fell out of touch for a few months at a time when they were busy during the hockey season, but he and Dyls rarely went more than a week or two without a phone call. Now it's been months, and Dylan hasn't seen him in person in over a year, and he didn't seem angry when they were texting but Connor will hardly blame him if he actually is. 

To take his mind off it he wastes time browsing apartment listings, bookmarking a few to send to Mitch later. Eventually it's late enough to justify making lunch, and shortly after he finishes eating Dylan texts that he's on the way over. 

Connor gives up any pretense of chill at that point and sits in the front hall to wait. He hears Dylan pull in, so by the time the doorbell rings Connor is already pulling the door open.

Suddenly Dylan is right there, in the flesh, and Connor knew he had missed him but he was lying to himself about just how much. He tugs Dylan over the threshold, forgoing the bro-hug and instead pulling him in and clinging for probably a little too long. The only solace is that Dylan holds him just as tight, seems just as unwilling to let go. 

Finally Connor pulls back and steps out of the way to let Dylan all the way into the house. He has to clear his throat a couple times before he can speak. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too," Dylan says a bit gruffly. He starts heading up to Connor's room, where they've always hung out when they're both home for the summer, without asking. Connor is powerless to do anything but follow him.

When they get to Connor's room Dylan seems to hesitate for a split second, just long enough to be noticeable, before sitting in the desk chair. That's new, they've always crowded onto the bed together, but Connor supposes he's going to have to work for some things. He sits sideways on the bed so he's facing Dylan, scooting back against the wall to put his legs up. 

"So how was the move?" Dylan asks. 

"Not bad, I didn't have much to bring," Connor says. 

There’s a pause. "How's your family?" Connor asks.

"Oh they're good, just keeping busy," Dylan says. 

They lapse into silence. 

"How's—?"

"I'm sorry," Connor cuts him off. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry it's been so long," he continues, "I'm sorry I didn't call more and keep you in the loop. It wasn't just you, it was everyone, but that doesn't make it okay."

"Dude, it's fine," Dylan says. "I kind of figured you didn't want to hear from me when—," he cuts himself off. "I figured you had other stuff going on."

"What were you going to say?" Connor asks.

"Nothing," Dylan says, "don't worry about it."

"Why would you think I didn't want to hear from you?" 

Dylan looks like he might try to dodge the question again, but eventually he speaks. "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me when I had everything you lost," he confesses in a whisper, not meeting Connor's eyes. Once he starts it's as though he can't stop. "Like, you're literally the best player in the world, and I could barely even make it out of training camp, but somehow you were stuck all alone in Edmonton and I got to be traded to play with one of my best friends, and that already didn't seem fair, but then—," he chokes a bit, sucks in a breath. 

"Then you went down and everyone was saying it was really bad and what was I supposed to do? Call you up and remind you that while you were rehabbing in the hopes of even skating again, I was out here living the life you deserved?" Dylan runs out of steam suddenly. "Like I said, I figured you had enough on your plate," he trails off. 

"Fuck that," Connor says before he can think better of it. Dylan's eyes jump to meet his from where they had been fixed on the wall above Connor's head. "I was your best friend, you deserved to hear from me more that once every few months. Why aren't you pissed at me right now?"

When Dylan speaks his voice is wet. "I just missed you." 

Suddenly there are tears threatening at the corners of Connor's eyes, and he can't take it anymore. 

"Come here," he says, reaching out. 

Dylan doesn't need to be told twice. He's on the bed a second later, and then he and Connor are crying on each other and it's messy and they're clinging to each other a bit too tightly to be comfortable, but Connor feels something in him release. 

  
  
  


It could be minutes or hours later when Dylan finally sits up a bit and wipes his face on his shirt. He repositions them, careful not to jostle Connor's bad knee, so they're lying side by side like they used to way back in Erie. It was a tight fit then and it's a lot tighter now, but Dylan can't bring himself to care. He doubts Connor minds either. 

For a while they just lie there not saying anything, but the silence is comfortable. Eventually Connor nudges Dylan's arm.

"So what have you been up to, while I was busy being an asshole?" he asks.

"Oh you know, not much," Dylan says. He tries to think of what Connor's missed that he can bring up without making them both cry again. What he settles on is, "I got a boyfriend."

"What?" Connor rolls to face him, suddenly alert. "Who? Do I know him?"

Dylan stares resolutely at the ceiling, feeling his cheeks heat up. "It's Brinksy."

"Wow, really?" Connor asks. "I didn't even know he was gay."

"He's bi," Dylan corrects.

"How did it happen?"

Finally Dylan turns to face him. 

"Well you know, when I got traded to Chicago last year I was staying with him," he starts. "So we were kind of living in each other's pockets and you know, we've always got on well. Anyway last summer we decided we'd keep living together when the season started up again, since it was working so well."

"And?" Connor jumps in when Dylan pauses. "How do you go from living together to dating?"

"He came out to me and I jumped him," Dylan says, grinning. 

"Oh my god," Connor groans. “So it was basically like Mitch and the World Juniors all over again?”

“What, no!” Dylan protests, giggling. “They’re nothing alike, with Mitch it was just unresolved tension, I wasn’t in love with him.” 

When Connor speaks again his voice is softer. “So you’re in love with Brinksy?”

“I mean, yeah,” Dylan says. He knows he has a goofy smile on his face but he can’t help it. 

Connor’s face, on the other hand, is doing something funny. It’s like it’s trying to smile, but there’s some other force pushing on his mouth and making it go kind of wobbly. All he says is, “I’m really happy for you, bro.” 

Dylan pulls Connor into a cuddle, giving him the time to school his face. He thinks about Connor all alone in Edmonton while two of his best friends got together without even telling him, and feels like a piece of shit all over again. There's no point dwelling on it though, he'll just have to be better going forward.

They spend the rest of the afternoon that way, talking about everything and nothing. At first Dylan tries to avoid the subject of Connor’s injury and hockey altogether, but Connor brings up his new physio routine himself and complains about the stiffness he’s feeling from doing a lot of standing the day before. So Dylan gathers that it’s okay to talk about Connor’s knee at least, although he still steers clear of bringing up the actual accident. 

Eventually they hear Connor’s parents getting home, and a few minutes later Kelly knocks on the door before poking her head in. She must have seen Dylan’s car on the street because she looks entirely unsurprised to find him in her son’s bed. 

“Are you staying for dinner, Dylan?” she asks. 

“I don’t want to impose,” Dylan says, for old time’s sake. 

“Of course you’re not imposing, don’t be silly.” Kelly still knows her lines and she delivers them with a grin like she knows what Dylan is doing. “As long as you help Connor with the dishes after.” 

The conversation could have been pulled right out of a time capsule, from any given summer since 2014. Connor just rolls his eyes as his mom heads back downstairs, a fond grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Dinner is a lively affair as Kelly asks after Dylan’s family, determined to catch up on a year’s worth of activity in one sitting. Connor stays mostly quiet aside from the occasional comment here or there; Dylan supposes he must be pretty tired from the emotional afternoon. Still, he seems content to listen as Dylan catches up with Kelly and Brian until the subject turns to Dylan himself. 

“Any plans for the rest of the summer?” Kelly asks. 

“Well Alex and I have to head back to Chicago for the Blackhawks Convention at the end of the month,” Dylan says, “and then we have another month or so before training camp.”

“Oh, Alex is here with you?” 

Dylan can just feel the goofy smile beginning to overtake his face again when Connor stands up abruptly. 

“Excuse me,” he says, leaving the room before Dylan can get a look at his face. 

Dylan could kick himself. He spent the whole afternoon not mentioning hockey or his team but half an hour with Connor’s parents had him completely forgetting himself. 

“I’m so sorry,” he starts, standing as well, “I should go.” 

He’s out the door before anyone can stop him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan is still waiting for life to pull the rug out from under him, for the scales to balance and send him plummeting down. Because surely the team that values him, the wonderfully patient man in his arms, the healthy body that can still play hockey, those things are not meant for him.

"Do you think I should text him and apologize? Or should I text him but not mention it? Maybe bringing it up again will—."

"I think you should come sit down and breathe for a minute," Alex interrupts, stepping into the path Dylan's been pacing. He takes one of Dylan's hands and leads him over to the couch.

"Davo isn't going to be mad at you, he probably just needs time to process things," Alex continues. "From what you said it sounds like you both had a pretty emotional day yesterday."

"Yeah, you're right," Dylan says. He wraps an arm around Alex and tugs him in. 

Dylan is still waiting for life to pull the rug out from under him, for the scales to balance and send him plummeting down. Because surely the team that values him, the wonderfully patient man in his arms, the healthy body that can still play hockey, those things are not meant for him. He'd be an idiot not to enjoy them while he has them though, so he holds Alex a little tighter and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

Alex looks up searchingly, so Dylan bends and kisses his forehead next, then his cheek, and by the time he reaches his mouth Alex has caught on and meets him halfway. Alex climbs onto Dylan's lap and they spend the next several minutes getting lost in each other. Dylan is working his hands up under Alex's shirt when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

He knows Alex felt it too because his boyfriend pulls away a moment later, resting his head on Dylan's shoulder. 

“You should check that,” Alex says. 

“It’s fine,” Dylan says distractedly, ducking to kiss along Alex’s neck. 

Alex threads his fingers through Dylan’s hair and uses the grip to pull him back, making Dylan groan. He waits until Dylan meets his eyes. 

“If it’s Davo and everything’s fine, you’re going to feel better and be glad you checked. If it’s Davo and it’s not good, you’re going to feel like shit when you look at it later and wish you had seen it sooner.” He pauses and grins before continuing, “And if it’s not Davo, you can ignore it and we can finish what we started.”

So Dylan fishes his phone out of his pocket, with Alex helpfully lifting up a bit on his knees to give him space. It  _ is _ Connor, texting him to say  _ sorry for making it weird last night, you didn’t do anything wrong _ , and then,  _ wanna come over again on Friday? promise i won’t freak out this time _

Dylan fires off a quick affirmative. “You were right,” he tells Alex, “he’s not mad.”

Then he drops his phone on the couch and turns his full attention back to his boyfriend so they can finish what they started. 

Connor means to relax and not talk to anyone after he makes sure everything’s okay with Dylan. He has a therapy appointment tomorrow, in person again for the first time in almost two years. He's been seeing Dr. Jen Mitchell for years, ever since he needed someone to help him deal with his crippling anxiety leading up to the draft. When he went to Edmonton he kept up occasional Skype sessions and still met with her when he was home for the summers, and in the past year he's had more calls with her than he can count.

He knows they're going to have a lot to talk about tomorrow, so he figures taking a day to just try to settle down and process everything that’s happened since the trade and the move isn’t a bad idea. With that in mind, he starts pulling out the components for eggs benedict because he has all the time in the world. 

No sooner has he put the first slice of bacon in the pan than his phone starts ringing on the counter. If it were someone official he might try to convince himself to ignore it in the name of his self-assigned sick day, but it’s only Mitch so he puts the call on speaker. 

He barely gets out a greeting before Mitch is talking over him.

"Davo I'm so bored, you gotta come over."

"Hi Mitch, I'm great thanks for asking," Connor says pointedly, but he's grinning and he's sure Mitch can hear it in his voice. He looks at the ingredients spread out over his counters and makes a decision. "I'm actually in the middle of cooking brunch, why don't you come over here and I'll feed you?"

"You're such a beauty," Mitch says.

So that's how Connor finds himself sitting down to eat across from his friend less than an hour after he decided not to see anyone today. He's not even upset about it; Mitch's energy is infectious and Connor finds himself suppressing a smug grin as Mitch moans about how good his cooking is. 

After brunch Mitch breaks out his switch and challenges Connor to beat him at Mario Kart. He didn't bring the dock so they end up having to prop the handheld screen up on the coffee table and sit close on the couch to see it, but Mitch doesn't seem to mind at all. If anything he revels in it, leaning into Connor's side and using his whole body to try and throw Connor off whenever Connor gets ahead. It's unfortunately a very effective strategy, as Connor finds himself thoroughly distracted by the contact. As a result Mitch wins a lot more races than he loses, and Connor's not too broken up about it.

As Mitch shoves his feet into his shoes late in the afternoon, he asks, "Wanna do this again tomorrow?"

"I can't," Connor says regretfully. "I actually, uh, I have an appointment with my therapist."

"Oh, have fun man," Mitch says good-naturedly. He grins. "I know physio can be the worst but I'm sure you're a try-hard who loves that shit."

Connor could just leave him with that assumption, but for some reason he doesn't want to. "It's not physio," he hears himself saying. "It's actual like–" he makes a vague gesture near his head "–therapy therapy," he finishes awkwardly. 

" _ Oh _ . Well, uh, I hope it goes well," Mitch offers. "Thanks for telling me?" 

He doesn't seem to know what else to say, and for a moment Connor is worried they're going to end the day on this incredibly uncomfortable note, but then he looks up sees Mitch looking back at him. Connor doesn't know what expression is on his own face, but if it's anywhere near the awkward look Mitch is giving him, he can't blame Mitch for bursting out laughing. Connor finds himself chuckling as well, and just like that the tension is broken.

"Cool, well I'll hit you up some time later this week," Mitch says. "I hope you're ready to spend a lot of quality time together now that you're back, because Matts went home for the summer and I've been bored as fuck."

"Oh I see how it is," Connor says. "I'm just your convenient hangout when your real friend isn't around." 

Mitch doesn't even rise to the bait, just grins and punches him on the shoulder. "See you soon, Davo."

"Yeah, see ya."

Connor arrives fifteen minutes early to his appointment the next day. It's a small clinic in a large office building, which is perfect for Connor's needs. No one who sees him walking into the building would have any reason to guess he's there for therapy, and the waiting room is entirely empty when Connor sits down. He responds to a few emails while he waits, and soon enough Jen steps into the doorway.

"Hi Connor," she says, smiling warmly. 

"Hey Jen, good to see you," he says, getting up to follow her down the hall.

When they get to her office Jen holds the door, letting Connor go first and choose where to sit. There are a couple armchairs by the window and he takes one.

"So what do you want to start with today?" Jen asks. 

"I guess relationships? You know I kind of took some time to myself last year, and I was starting to get better with the guys in Edmonton, but I haven't really talked to anyone here in a while and I expected to have to do some work to connect with people again?" He says it like a question but Jen just waits him out, knowing he's not done. "But I've already seen Dylan and Mitch since I got back and they were both really good about everything and they weren't even mad that I ignored them for so long, and I don't know what to do with that."

Now that he's started he's on a roll. It's always like this at the beginning of a session, Connor likes to get everything out at once so he doesn't forget to bring something up later when they're getting into the details. 

"I also got really overwhelmed a couple times when I was hanging out with Dylan, and I don't really know what that was about? He was just talking about how he has a boyfriend, and it was like I was happy for him but I also wanted to cry a bit?" He thinks about it and tacks on, "To be fair, we had both already done some crying so it might have just been that there were a lot of emotions happening in general. And then later at dinner he was telling my parents about how he would be going back to Chicago in a few weeks and I had to leave and do some breathing exercises because it hurt too much, which was really shitty because I don't want him to feel like he can't talk to me about his team or his life in Chicago or anything."

Jen waits another minute to make sure he's done. 

"I'd like to start with Dylan, if that's okay with you," she begins. When Connor nods she continues. "Can you tell me a bit more about your time with him leading up to you feeling overwhelmed?"

When Connor leaves an hour later he feels like he's been scrubbed out and wrung dry. It's not necessarily a bad feeling, but it's tiring. He sits in his car for five minutes just breathing before he finally drives home, feeling a little lighter than when he woke up this morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly how far to push Connor's limits. It's not like he glosses over Connor's injury, but he doesn't jump to help with every little task either. It's surprisingly refreshing to have someone around who doesn't treat him like he's fragile.
> 
> And then there's Dylan, who's so familiar to Connor that being around him is like slipping on a well worn pair of skates. It's like coming up for air when he didn't even know he was underwater.

Over the next few weeks Connor sees Mitch and Dylan more often than he's seen anyone who's not immediate family or a medical professional since his injury. It feels like it should be overwhelming, but they're both so easy to be around in their own ways. 

Mitch seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly how far to push Connor's limits. It's not like he glosses over Connor's injury, but he doesn't jump to help with every little task either. It's surprisingly refreshing to have someone around who doesn't treat him like he's fragile.

And then there's Dylan, who's so familiar to Connor that being around him is like slipping on a well worn pair of skates. It's like coming up for air when he didn't even know he was underwater. It's the closest thing to flying out on the ice that Connor has felt in over a year. 

They spend hours on Connor's bed, watching movies or just talking. Connor asks after Alex and demands to hear Dylan's thoughts on the Blackhawks' moves at the draft, determined to show his friend that he can be normal about hockey. One night Dylan stays late after dinner, and when they finally realize the time Connor tells him, "Just stay."

Dylan doesn't need much convincing. "Let me just text Alex," he says. 

When his phone buzzes with a reply, Connor reads over his shoulder without meaning to. 

_ Lost track of time gonna stay at Davos tn _

_ Ok love you <3 _

_ Love u too ❤️❤️❤️ _

Connor looks up from the phone and finds Dylan smiling the little smile Connor used to think of as his. 

He decides then and there that it's time to get over his fear of losing Dylan. Alex makes him so happy, and Dylan deserves to be happy. 

Mitch keeps dragging Connor out to look at apartments once in a while, but more often he just invites Connor over to play video games and order takeout. Connor's parents haven't said anything, but Mitch can tell they're thrilled he's getting out of the house. And Connor himself seems pretty happy to be getting out, even going so far as to invite himself over to Mitch's place at least once. 

Overall it's very much confirming that Mitch is a genius and he and Connor are going to be great roommates. He thinks he's been pretty subtle in his quest to find the perfect apartment to get together. At least, until Connor asks him outright and Mitch can't lie to save his life.

"Why are you even looking for an apartment?" he calls from Mitch's kitchen where he's grabbing beers. "This place is sweet."

"I dunno," Mitch says, going for casual, "this place only has one bedroom. What about when I have guests?"

"Your family all live like forty minutes from here," Connor points out as he walks in. "Who are you ever going to have over that needs their own bedroom?"

"You," Mitch says automatically. He tries to backpedal, "I mean like, eventually you're going to move out, right, and maybe you're gonna need a place to stay while you look for an apartment. Hypothetically."

"So, just so I'm clear," Connor says, "you're going to move into an entirely new apartment to prepare for the incredibly unlikely scenario that my parents kick me out and refuse to let me stay another day when I'm looking for  _ my _ new apartment." 

"When you put it like that…" Mitch trails off, cursing himself for not having a better excuse prepared. 

"Is this your way of trying to get me to be your roommate without ever having to ask?" Connor demands, but he looks more amused than annoyed so Mitch takes a chance.

"If I asked, would you say yes?" He says it like it's a joke, like he could take or leave Connor's answer. 

But when Connor says "I'll think about it," Mitch is looking closely enough to catch the smile threatening at the corner of his mouth, and he knows he was right. They're going to be awesome roommates.

The end of the month crept up on Dylan, and now he and Alex are flying out tomorrow. He invited Connor over so they could hang out one last time before Dylan leaves, and at the last minute Connor texted to ask if Mitch could come too, so now the four of them are sprawled across the sectional in the living room, an hour into a Mario Kart tournament. 

Dylan is feeling decidedly weird and trying to ignore it because there's nothing to feel weird about. It's been ages since he's hung out with Mitch for any length of time, but it's just as easy to settle into familiar banter as always. Alex and Connor spent the first twenty minutes catching up and teasing Dylan about keeping them away from each other all month, and that was easy too. Everyone's having a great time so there's really no explanation for the gnawing feeling in Dylan's stomach. 

Except–.

Except Dylan finds himself sitting on the other end of the couch from Alex, feeling weirdly guilty about the idea of flaunting their relationship even though they've never shied away from PDA around other friends who know. 

Except Connor and Mitch are just as comfortable together as they were the year of the draft, when the three of them were all over each other and Mitch's crush on Connor could be seen from space and Dylan was still young and dumb enough to think nothing could pull them apart. 

Except he watches Alex chirp Connor, making him laugh and shove him off the couch, and all he can think about is how much he wishes he could keep them both with him forever. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one ended up a little shorter, it was originally all going to be included in chapter three but that ended up getting too long. The next one will be longer!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come to bed," Alex murmurs, standing on his toes to press a kiss to the back of Dylan's neck. 
> 
> "In a minute," Dylan manages. "I just want to finish up here."
> 
> Alex squeezes him a little tighter for a moment and then walks away, footsteps echoing down the hall. Dylan concentrates on the motion of washing and drying the last two glasses, tries to put the day out of his mind so he can go lie down next to his boyfriend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry this took over a month, I promise I'm not abandoning this fic and it will be completed. Also, please note the rating change

Dylan is pretty sure he manages to be normal for the rest of the day. Mitch's presence turns out to be a godsend, his infectious energy making it less noticeable if Dylan is a bit quieter than usual. 

When Connor and Mitch head out late in the evening, Dylan sets about cleaning up the takeout containers from dinner. As he stands at the sink washing glasses he feels Alex's arms come around him from behind. Alex just stands there for a minute, forehead pressed into the middle of Dylan's back.

"We'll see them again soon," Alex offers, misreading Dylan's guilt as something else. Homesickness maybe, if one can be homesick for a person. 

Dylan hums, doesn't correct him. 

"Come to bed," Alex murmurs, standing on his toes to press a kiss to the back of Dylan's neck. 

"In a minute," Dylan manages. "I just want to finish up here."

Alex squeezes him a little tighter for a moment and then walks away, footsteps echoing down the hall. Dylan concentrates on the motion of washing and drying the last two glasses, tries to put the day out of his mind so he can go lie down next to his boyfriend. 

  
  
  


Dylan can't sleep. 

He tries to put the day behind him, tried to put Connor out of his mind, tried to focus on Alex, his actual boyfriend who is patient and understanding and loves him and deserves so much better. But it's like every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Connor crawling into bed behind him. Eventually Dylan has to get up and sneak out of the room, can't bear to keep looking at Alex's peaceful sleeping face.

He stares out the living room window, thoughts whirring. He always knew this couldn't last, always had a feeling he didn't deserve so much happiness. Now he understands why. He's selfish, he was always going to ruin anything good that came into his life. 

At least the timing isn't bad. The next few days are going to be packed with the convention, but after that Dylan has nothing going on for the rest of the summer. He can slink back home, give Alex some time to move on before training camp. They were supposed to visit Alex's family for a week or two in August, it will be good for Alex to be with them. Hopefully by the time they're both back in Chicago they can at least be civil, maybe eventually they can work up to being friends again. Dylan probably doesn't deserve Alex's friendship either, but he's not sure he'll be able to give it up entirely. Just another way he's selfish. 

It occurs to Dylan that if he really wanted what was best for Alex, he would ask for a trade. The thought only crosses his mind for a fraction of a second, just long enough to remember what it was like alone in Arizona. He knows he's not that strong.

Staying away for the rest of the summer will have to be enough. 

  
  
  


Alex manages to hold out until the end of the second day of the convention before he can't take it anymore. He's used to Dylan's bouts of homesickness, especially right after he's been to Toronto or seen his parents, and he anticipated that it might be even worse this time because Dylan is missing his best friend too. He only just got Connor back a few weeks ago, Alex can understand Dylan wishing they had more time. 

He didn't anticipate Dylan being moody with  _ Alex _ , avoiding his gaze as they go through their days only to turn around and cling to him almost desperately when they climb into bed at night. Last night he just held Dylan silently, tried to pour love into him through osmosis. After a second full day of weirdness, he's ready to be a bit more direct this time. 

"Dylan," he whispers into the dark. 

Dylan's breathing stutters almost imperceptibly, but if that weren't enough of a tell the tension Alex can feel radiating off of Dylan at every point of contact between them would give him away. 

"I know you're awake, babe," Alex continues, still whispering. "Can you tell me what's going on with you? I can't help if I don't know."

Dylan's breath hitches and suddenly Alex feels dampness on his shoulder where Dylan's head is resting. 

"Oh, Dyls," he soothes, stroking over Dylan's hair with the hand not trapped under him. He brushes at the tears now freely-flowing down his boyfriend's face, cupping his cheek. 

"I– I can't–" Dylan chokes out, pulling away and sitting up only to put his face in his hands. 

"Shh, it's okay," Alex says, at a loss. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out," he tries. "I just need you to talk to me."

Dylan takes a deep, heaving breath, then a few more before he speaks. "I w– I  _ need _ to tell you about something," he starts, voice low. "But I can't, not tonight. I know I've been… weird. I'll be better, just, let's try to enjoy the end of the convention. We can talk after, okay?" 

He still hasn't turned around. Alex nods anyway. "Okay," he murmurs, "whatever you need." 

Eventually, Dylan lies back down. Alex reaches out into the space between them, not touching, just offering. He falls asleep like that, arm stretched out without a tether. 

  
  
  


The next day is almost normal. Alex can tell that Dylan is trying, at least, no longer avoiding him or pulling away. He puts up such a convincing front that Alex might not notice anything off, if not for the day before. But he does notice, the tiniest strain at the edge of Dylan's smile, the way his shoulders hunch with tension when he's not obviously making a conscious effort to relax them. His tight grip on Alex's hand in the car on the way home from dinner, just for a split second before he loosens it to their normal, comfortable grasp. 

In the elevator Alex thinks about what he's going to say when they get into their apartment. He needs to be open, reassuring, make sure Dylan knows they're in this together. There's a tiny part of his brain that wonders if Dylan is breaking up with him, but Alex pushes that down easily. Dylan loves him, they haven't had a serious fight in months. Whatever is happening with Dylan, Alex knows they're strong enough to face it together.

The apartment door closes behind him, and the words are on the tip of his tongue.  _ I need you to tell me what's going on _ , he wants to say, but before he can even start the sentence Dylan turns around and pins him against the door, kissing him within an inch of his life. 

Alex kisses back automatically, all thoughts gone from his head. When he pulls away after several seconds, Dylan just stoops to kiss along his neck. 

"Dylan," Alex says, breathless. "Dyls, I–"

"Please," Dylan interrupts, not lifting his head and speaking so quietly Alex strains to hear. "Please," he repeats and finally meets Alex's eyes. He looks vulnerable, like the slightest pressure could shatter him. "I need this," he breathes. 

"Okay," Alex whispers, and lets Dylan draw him back in. They can talk tomorrow. 

Alex takes the lead, walking Dylan back towards the bedroom. When they get there he makes them stop long enough to get their suits hung up properly, hoping that slowing things down will settle some of the frantic energy still thrumming through Dylan's body. 

It works, when Alex finally kisses Dylan again he can feel the tension bleed out of his frame. He nudges Dylan backwards and Dylan lets himself be moved, sitting down when his knees hit the edge of the bed. Alex stands between Dylan's legs, tilting Dylan's head up for a long lingering kiss before he sinks to his knees in front of him. 

He takes his time, first just running his hands over Dylan's thighs, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee. "C'mon," Dylan whines, impatient, but Alex won't let himself be rushed. He presses kisses all the way up the inside of Dylan's thigh only to bypass his dick and start again on the other leg. Dylan groans, hands fisting in the sheets. 

Alex keeps him there for several more minutes, and Dylan's legs are shaking by the time Alex gets his mouth on him. He uses every trick he knows to bring Dylan to the edge, pulling off right when he can tell Dylan is seconds away from coming. 

Dylan makes a choked off noise. "Fuck, please, let me–" he begs.

"Shh," Alex soothes. "Do you want to come now? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

Dylan surges forward to kiss him in response, hauling Alex up into his lap. They make out a bit more until Alex pushes Dylan back with a hand on his chest. Dylan gets the message, shifting up towards the pillows while Alex grabs the lube and a condom. 

He turns back to find Dylan has rolled over onto his stomach, a pillow shoved under his hips. It's just another little detail that reminds Alex there's something wrong; normally they fuck face to face because Dylan is soft and likes to look into Alex's eyes and be kissed. Every now and then though, Dylan just wants to be taken apart, ruined in the best way because he can trust Alex to put him back together. 

Alex presses kisses into Dylan's back as he fingers him open, taking his time. He can't see Dylan's face like this but he knows his body, can read his reactions in the line of his shoulders, the tightness going out of his neck. Soon Dylan's hips are shifting as he fucks himself back on Alex's fingers, trying to get a better angle. Alex just uses his other hand to still Dylan, continues missing his prostate on purpose in favour of stretching him more. 

When he finally pulls his fingers out Dylan whines, but Alex barely gives him more than a second to feel empty before he's pushing in, not stopping until his hips are flush with Dylan's ass. Dylan goes pliant beneath him, letting himself be moved when Alex pulls on his hips to adjust the angle. He can tell he got it right on the next thrust, Dylan's groans sounding punched out of him as Alex nails his prostate over and over again. 

Alex knows Dylan will come like this, trapped between Alex's cock and the bed, rubbing off against the sheets. He holds off his own orgasm through sheer force of will and he's rewarded a few minutes later as Dylan tightens around him before going boneless, melting into the sheets. 

"Don't–" Dylan starts to mumble, but Alex already knows not to pull out. He doesn't even slow down, and Dylan is whimpering a bit from the overstimulation when Alex's own orgasm hits him. He drapes himself over Dylan's back, kissing and stroking every piece of skin he can reach. He has to pull out sooner than Dylan would like, and he soothes kisses down his spine in apology. 

"Be right back," Alex whispers, pulling away to deal with the condom and ducking into the bathroom to grab a cloth. He convinces Dylan to roll out of the wet spot and cleans him up, tossing the cloth towards the laundry hamper when he's done. When Alex finally spoons up behind Dylan his fatigue hits him all at once, and he drifts off to sleep easily to the sound of Dylan's slow, even breaths. 

  
  
  
  


Dylan is a coward. He meant it when he said they could talk tomorrow, at least, in that moment he meant it. But at 1:07 a.m. his eyes catch on the little wrinkle in Alex's brow, as if he's worrying about Dylan even in his sleep, and he knows he's not strong enough to do this in person. He presses one last kiss to Alex's forehead, watches long enough to see his expression smooth out into something more peaceful, and finally stands and slips out of the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try really hard to get back onto a regular posting schedule, no guarantees but I'll hopefully at least be updating more often than once a month. 
> 
> Would really appreciate feedback on this chapter, it was a bit out of my comfort zone


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch intends to ask, _Did you have fun today?_ but what comes out is, "Do you want to move in with me?"
> 
> Connor's laugh sounds like it's startled out of him, a mirror of the surprise Mitch feels at his own words. "Yeah, okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, in my defense April was only like three days long. I'm just gonna stop making promises about how often this will update, but there's only a few chapters left! 
> 
> The start of this chapter backtracks a bit to catch up with Connor and Mitch, hopefully it's not confusing. 
> 
> Shoutout to Olive for always giving me incredible feedback and the confidence to stick with this story 💚

Mitch has had a really good day. He glances over at Connor in the passenger seat, taking in the soft smile still hovering around his lips. Connor is cute around Dylan, everything about him somehow softer than he normally is with just Mitch or his parents. Mitch can't remember if it was always that way,  _ before _ , or if this is a new development. 

Mitch isn't really close with Brinksy but he's obviously good for Dylan, and he was easy to hang out with. Dylan himself was a bit quiet later in the day, but Mitch didn't mind dialing it up to make up for it. He makes a mental note to text Dylan in a few days and see how he's doing, maybe after the weekend. 

He pulls himself out of his thoughts in time to notice that they're getting close to Connor's neighbourhood. Mitch glances over again and this time Connor's looking back. 

"What?" he asks, still smiling.

Mitch intends to ask,  _ Did you have fun today? _ but what comes out is, "Do you want to move in with me?"

Connor's laugh sounds like it's startled out of him, a mirror of the surprise Mitch feels at his own words. "Yeah, okay."

"Wait really?" Mitch asks. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Connor agrees. He seems maybe a little bit surprised by his answer, too, but he doesn't take it back. 

"Okay," Mitch says, unable to keep from glancing over again. He's parked in front of Connor's parents' house now, but Connor makes no move to get out. 

"Okay," Connor parrots, teasing. "Which apartment are we getting? The one–"

"On King West," Mitch interrupts, naming the unit they looked at the week before. It checked basically all his boxes, the only reason he hadn't already put in an offer was that he was holding out to try and get Connor on the lease too. 

Connor nods, outright grinning now. "When do you think we could meet the guy again?" 

"I was already talking to him," Mitch says, and it's not even a lie. He did follow up about the unit, although he stalled long enough on actually making an offer that he'll probably have to throw his name around a bit to make up for it. He normally tries to avoid being that person, but now that Connor's on board Mitch suddenly wants to be moved in like, yesterday. "I'll hit him up again in the morning, maybe we can even meet him tomorrow afternoon."

"There's no rush," Connor laughs, even though he looks delighted by Mitch's enthusiasm. "Don't you need time to pack?"

"That's what movers are for," Mitch brushes him off, "and besides, I've already been packing a bit."

"Oh?" Connor's eyebrows go up. "Pretty confident, were you?"

"Yeah," Mitch says, cocky, "I knew you'd come around."

"Yeah," Connor says quietly, "I guess you did." 

After that things move quickly. Connor tells his parents over breakfast the next day and although they try not to let it show, he can tell they're relieved. They've made no secret of how thrilled they are that he's been hanging out with Dylan and Mitch, they're probably happy he has any friends left at all. 

Mitch does manage to get them a meeting that afternoon, and two days later Connor all but collapses onto the couch in their new apartment while Mitch thanks the movers on their way out the door. 

Connor's knee twinges, letting him know that he pushed it too far trying to make the movers' job easier. When Mitch comes back into the room Connor shifts to make room for him on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position with his legs bent so he's not encroaching on Mitch's space. Mitch only watches him struggle for a few moments before he huffs and drags Connor's feet into his lap. Connor stills. 

"Is this okay?" Mitch asks. "Your knee is bothering you, right?" 

Connor nods, finds he has to swallow before he can say anything and even then all he manages is, "Yeah."

Mitch has a hand resting on Connor's ankle still, doesn't seem to notice as he looks at the phone in his other hand. "I'm ordering food, are you down for Indian?" 

"Hmm? Sure," Connor says, distracted. Mitch's fingers have slipped under the leg of Connor's jeans, tracing at the bare skin just above his sock. He still isn't giving any indication that he's even aware he's doing it. 

Just when Connor is beginning to relax into the sensation, Mitch sets his phone down and leans forward. For a moment Connor thinks he's going to stand up and move to the chair, or maybe leave the room altogether, but Mitch just grabs the remote off the coffee table and settles back down. 

"I found this great documentary series the other day," Mitch says, flicking on the TV and bringing up Netflix. "Do you mind if I put it on? It's really interesting."

"Go ahead," Connor tells him. He can't help but grin when he sees Mitch navigate to his Continue Watching section and click on Planet Earth. Leave it to Mitch to act like he's discovered a niche show and then put on the series that the rest of the world watched like ten years ago. 

Connor tries to focus on the show but within minutes he feels his eyelids getting heavy. He knows he should fight it, but the combination of David Attenborough's voice and Mitch's hand still tracing over his ankles is too strong. He's asleep less than ten minutes into the first episode, a small smile still playing at his lips. 

Alex wakes up and knows something is wrong. It's still dark outside and the sheets are cold where Dylan was lying. Sometimes Dylan takes Ralph out in the middle of the night when he can't sleep, but a quick glance reveals that Ralph is still on his dog bed in the corner of the room. 

Alex rolls over and grabs his phone to check the time. His eyes skim right past the clock on the screen though when he sees that he has two unread messages from Dylan. Just the preview is enough to have him scrambling one-handed to pull on some clothes as he unlocks his phone with the other hand and reads. 

_ Dyls ❤️ (1:21a.m.) _

_ im sorry. i couldnt bear to see how _

_ you would react. im in love with Connor.  _

_ i still love you, and i wish that was _

_ enough for me. you deserve someone _

_ who only has eyes for you. youre the _

_ best boyfriend anyone could ask for, i  _

_ know youre gonna find someone who _

_ can love you like you deserve.  _

_ Dyls ❤️ (1:22a.m.) _

_ im gonna go back to toronto, get out of  _

_ your way for a while. see you at  _

_ training camp _

Alex's hands are shaking by the time he finishes reading and he fumbles to open the Uber app. He heads downstairs to wait, googling flights to Toronto in the elevator. 

Alex can't find it in himself to be surprised that Dylan has feelings for Connor. They were best friends for years, and it's all too easy to draw parallels between their reunion this summer and Alex's own reunion with Dylan a couple years ago. It feels almost inevitable, just a fact of the world. The sun rises in the East, April showers bring May flowers, Dylan Strome loves Connor McDavid. 

What surprises him more is that he thinks he might be okay with it. Dylan said he still loves Alex, and that alone is enough to give him hope. If Dylan genuinely doesn't want to be with him anymore, it's going to hurt so much more but Alex will let him go. But he doesn't think that's it. It would be just like Dylan to punish himself for having too much love to give.

Alex fires off a text as he gets into the Uber.

_ Sent (2:28a.m.) _

_ We can talk about this, please don't  _

_ get on that plane. I love you _

The message stays unread, but he tries not to dwell on it. The earliest flight leaves just after four in the morning, so he thinks he has a pretty good chance of catching Dylan. 

He spends the whole ride to the airport on Google. The search 'more than one boyfriend' turns up a lot of results about cheating, but halfway down the page he finds the word he was looking for but couldn't remember. Polyamory. 

A new Google search turns up some more helpful results and Alex skims through them. He mostly just wants to be about to tell Dylan,  _ See, this exists, other people do it. _ He's also looking for advice on how to actually organize more than one relationship, but every link he opens seems to boil the issue down to the same thing: communication. 

Alex is almost startled when the Uber pulls up at the airport. He realizes he hasn't said a word to the driver this entire time and flushes. "Thanks," he says a bit belatedly, resolving to tip well as he rushes out of the car and into the building.

Alex finds Dylan slouched in one of those uncomfortable-looking airport chairs, head tipped back and hat covering his face. Even if he didn't recognize the backpack on the ground next to him or the sweater stretched across his chest, Alex would know that sprawl of legs too long for any reasonably sized furniture anywhere. 

He sits down next to Dylan, and he's still deciding if he's going to just start talking or wait for Dylan to acknowledge him first when Dylan shifts his head almost imperceptibly to slant a look out from under his hat, freezing when he sees who it is. 

Dylan sits up a bit, lifts a hand to fix his hat. Alex can feel the weight of his gaze, but he keeps his eyes forward. He has a feeling this conversation is going to make him cry, and Dylan's always been a sympathy crier, and Alex knows he won't be able to get through everything he wants to say if he has to look at Dylan while it's happening. 

"You know, it's pretty fucked up of you to decide what I deserve and leave in the middle of the night without even asking me," he says quietly.

"I–," Dylan starts, but Alex cuts him off. 

"I need you to let me say this," he says. "If you still want to leave after, you can, I just need to know that you know where I stand."

Dylan closes his mouth. He waits.

"I love you," Alex says. "I love you so much, and you know what I love about you? I love how you love everyone around you. You give your love out so easily, I've seen you do it a thousand times. You gave it to the Otters, to your brothers, to the Hawks, to Connor, and to–." His voice breaks, and there are the tears he knew would come. "And to me."

"You just take your heart out and hand it over and you trust us to keep it safe. Do you know how amazing that is?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "I don't care if you're in love with Connor. I mean, that's not right. I care, because Connor's my friend, but I mean, I'm not mad about it. I think you've always loved him, you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with if you didn't love him too. And if you want to be with him too, we can figure it out together. Just–." He sucks in a ragged breath. "Just please don't leave and think you're protecting me or that this is better for me, because it's not. You could date half of Chicago and I'd be happy if I got to keep looking after your heart along with them."

Now he finally looks at Dylan, and he knows everything he's feeling is on his face. Dylan looks  _ wrecked _ , tears flowing freely down his face even though he didn't make a sound the whole time Alex talked. He doesn't say anything now either, and Alex tries to be patient, but he would really like to know if Dylan is still thinking of getting on that flight to Toronto, and he  _ isn't saying anything _ . 

Just when Alex is about to say something himself, Dylan stands up and grabs his hand, pulling him along as he starts walking.

"Dylan?" he tries, following him automatically. Dylan hasn't let go of his hand. Alex is just keeping his head down at this point and hoping the two other people in the terminal aren't paying attention. "Where are we going?" he asks.

Dylan glances around to make sure no one is nearby and then quietly answers, "I can't kiss you here, and I can't keep not kissing you after  _ that _ , so we're finding somewhere to go where I can kiss you."

With that he pulls Alex into a bathroom, and it's empty. Dylan flips the lock on the door and then he's on Alex, hands cupping his face to tilt it up as Dylan stoops to meet him. Alex tastes salt and doesn't know if it's from his tears or Dylan's, can't bring himself to care, just clutches Dylan closer and breathes him in. 

Dylan sobs into the kiss and Alex pulls back just far enough to draw him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Dylan's waist and taking his weight. He doesn't know how long they stand there, he just tries to keep taking even, soothing breaths until Dylan settles down. 

Eventually Dylan manages to say, "I can't believe I almost left," but that sets him off all over again. 

Alex takes it as a cue and shushes him. "You didn't leave, though, I got here in time. And even if I didn't, I would've just called you tomorrow and we would have this whole conversation then and you would come back home. So really the only difference is that you're saving money on the return flight," he jokes, and is rewarded with a wet laugh from Dylan. "Although, I did have to buy a ticket myself to get through security, so you might have to make the cost of the second flight up to me anyway." 

It's meant to be another joke, to lighten the mood, but Dylan pulls back and waits for Alex to meet his gaze. "You're way too good for me," he says seriously. 

"Dyls–."

"No, I mean it. I don't know what I did to deserve you, because I'm pretty sure most people would be fucking pissed if they found out their boyfriend left in the middle of the night because he was in love with another man." He interprets Alex's reaction to that correctly. "I know, you were mad. I know I should have just talked to you, and I'm so sorry. I don't deserve a second chance after the shit I pulled tonight but I know you're going to give me one anyway, because you're just that good, so I'm not going to waste it."

"So no more hiding from me and letting things bottle up for days on end?" Alex ventures. 

"Yeah," Dylan agrees. "No more hiding."

They go home and fall into bed, and when Dylan wakes up the bed is warm under the afternoon sun. Alex is sitting up against the headboard with his laptop open in front of him, but when Dylan glances up he finds Alex looking back at him.

"Morning," Dylan says, turning his head to kiss the closest part of Alex he can reach, which happens to be the side of his leg. 

"Afternoon, more like," Alex says. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better," Dylan tells him. He nods at the laptop. "What are you doing?"

Alex turns the screen towards him, so Dylan grabs his glasses off the bedside table and sits up a bit to read. There are two windows open side by side, one is a text document with bullet-form notes and the other is a webpage titled "Dos and don'ts for happy polyamorous relationships." There are several other tabs open in the browser.

Dylan loves Alex so much. 

He reads over Alex's shoulder for half an hour or so before his stomach growls and reminds him that he hasn't eaten since dinner last night, which feels like a hundred years ago at this point. 

Dylan grabs his phone as he gets up to get some food, but he never turned it back on last night so he has to wait for it to boot up. He's sitting in the kitchen halfway through a bowl of cereal when the screen comes on, a few notifications trickling in. 

He clicks on the Snapchat notifications first. There's a picture of a weight from Matt, and Dylan snaps a quick picture of his cereal bowl to send back. Their streak is going to hit 500 next week. 

Next is a picture from Connor of an unfamiliar bedroom with an open box in the middle, half-full. The caption reads "worst part of moving is unpacking 🤦". 

Dylan's surprised, to say the least. He saw Connor like four days ago, and he never mentioned anything about moving soon. He's barely paying attention as he thumbs open his last snap from Mitch, but it's eye-catching enough to make up for it. It's a selfie with Connor, half the screen covered in bitmojis, and "NEW ROOMY" slanted across the whole thing. 

Dylan FaceTimes Connor without even thinking about it. While it's ringing he manages to acknowledge that this makes sense, even if it's a bit sudden. Connor wasn't going to live with his parents forever, and it never really felt right that Mitch lived alone. Before he has time to speculate further, Connor picks up.

"Hey!" he says, grinning. 

"You moved in with Mitch?" 

Okay, not Dylan's smoothest opening. Connor takes it in stride though.

"Yeah, we kind of talked about it a bit before, and we've been– well, he's been looking at apartments, and I've been going with him, just to hang out, and then–," Connor cuts himself off, chuckling. "He just kind of asked out of the blue the other day, after we left your place. And I couldn't think of a good reason to say no, so I didn't."

Dylan can only guess what his face is doing right now. "Who are you? Where's Davo?" he demands. 

Connor laughs. 

"Seriously man," Dylan says, grinning, "you've never made an impulsive decision in your life. What the fuck?" 

"Well like I said we had kind of talked about it a bit already," Connor says. "And um–." He glances over his shoulder, then lowers his voice. "I think I might like him?" Dylan realizes Connor's giddy, like he hasn't seen him in years. Connor's still talking. "–and it's just so easy to be around him, and I feel like he really likes spending time with me too…" He trails off. 

"That's great, bro," Dylan hears himself say. He pastes a smile on. "I think you should go for it, really. Mitchy's a great guy."

"Thanks," Connor says, smiling. There's a voice in the background on his end and he glances over his shoulder again. When he turns back his smile is softer somehow, fonder. "I've gotta go," he says, "but we can talk later, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Dylan gets out. "See you later." 

He hangs up before Connor finishes saying goodbye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof that one was a doozy
> 
> Please come cry with me in the comments, or on twitter or tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They drive to the Leafs' practice facility first thing in the morning. Connor's hoping the early hour will mean there aren't too many people around. 
> 
> From the outside it just looks like a big building. There's only one other car in the parking lot when Mitch pulls in. He parks and glances over at Connor.
> 
> "You ready?" Mitch checks.
> 
> Connor makes himself nod. "Yeah," he says, reaching for the door handle. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a content warning for a character having a panic attack. Additional details in the end note.

Dylan mechanically finishes his breakfast, feeling wretched all over again. Last night he was ready to fly to Toronto, give up everything he's built with Alex, and– what? Show up on Connor's doorstep, profess his everlasting love and expect Connor to have waited for him all these years? 

He can't believe he almost did it, and Connor wouldn't have even been there when Dylan showed up. He'd already be in his new apartment with Mitch, moving on just like Dylan has. 

Well, like Dylan should have done. 

The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, he finally actually talks to Alex and realizes he can have everything he wants, way more than he deserves, only to find out that he's missed his chance. Something like a laugh bubbles up in his chest, except it sticks in his throat and oh, it's not a laugh, it's a sob. 

Dylan's hand flies to his mouth to choke the noise, but it makes no difference because Alex chooses that moment to wander out of the bedroom anyway. Dylan stumbles towards him and Alex meets him halfway, reaching up to wipe the tears Dylan didn't realize were on his face. 

"Hey, it's okay," Alex says, wrapping an arm around Dylan and gently leading him over to the couch. "What's going on?"

Dylan tries to get his breathing under control to answer. "I'm a terrible boyfriend–" he gets out before Alex cuts him off. 

"No you're not," he says fiercely. "You have such a big heart, that's not terrible."

"But I was going to leave," Dylan insists. "And it would've all been for nothing–" he chokes on a fresh sob "–because Connor doesn't even love me back."

He feels horrible even as he says it, because what kind of person makes their boyfriend console them over being rejected by another man? 

"You talked to him already?" Alex asks, and Dylan can hear the surprise in his voice. When he looks over Alex hurries to continue, "I mean, it's fine and you can do this however you want, I just sort of thought we were going to talk about it more first?"

"No!" Dylan feels truly wretched now. He supposes he deserves this mistrust after the shit he pulled last night. "No, I didn't tell him anything, I wouldn't do that without talking to you first."

"I mean, you could," Alex interrupts. "Sorry, I'll let you finish but like, I think if you do start a relationship with Connor it wouldn't be fair for me to expect you to get my permission whenever you want to talk to him or whatever. Like, if I'm going to say I'm okay with you being with him too, then that's gotta be your own thing?"

God, Dylan loves him so much, but, "It doesn't matter anyway," he says morosely. "He's moved on, if he was ever even into me. I was talking to him because he just moved in with Marns, and Connor was basically gushing about how much he likes him."

"Oh," Alex says, and Dylan thinks,  _ yeah, that pretty much sums it up _ . Alex holds him a little bit tighter, and for a while they don't say anything else.

Connor's knee is still tingling from the TENS machine as his physiotherapist wipes off the gel and makes small talk. 

"I'll see you again on Thursday," she says, turning away to make a note in Connor's file, "and if there are no major setbacks, I'd like to see you on skates next week."

Her back is still turned, so she doesn't see Connor flinch. 

When he first came back to Toronto and had the initial meeting with the Leafs' medical team, they were pleased with the amount of progress he'd made in Edmonton. They said he could probably hit the ice (for light skating  _ only _ ) some time in August. Connor knew he was never going to play in the NHL again, but the Leafs clearly still saw him as an asset. He figured if he could get back on skates he could probably get a coaching position out of it once his contract was paid out.

The problem is, Connor was supposed to be preparing for this emotionally as well as physically. He was planning to bring it up with his therapist weeks ago, but they've been doing a lot of work in other areas like his relationships and his ability to ask for help. He's also been busy with Dylan and Mitch and moving, okay? He just sort of forgot.

When Connor tells all this to Jen at their session the next day he can tell she sees right through his bullshit. She's a professional though, so she doesn't call him out directly. She talks about avoidant behaviour and about how it's important that Connor not set himself up to be blindsided. He leaves the session with a homework assignment: visit the practice rink at least twice before he actually has to get on the ice next week.

Over dinner that night, Connor asks Mitch, "Are you busy tomorrow?" 

"Not really," Mitch says through a mouthful of food. Connor makes a face so he chews and swallows before continuing, "Why?"

"I want to go to the rink." He frowns, apparently at himself. "Well, I don't  _ want _ to go to the rink. But the physiotherapist was talking about getting me to try skating by next week and…" He breaks eye contact, mumbling the rest of the sentence into his shirt. 

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Mitch says. 

"I, uh, haven't been in a rink since my injury," Connor admits. 

Mitch has some serious reservations about the relatively miniscule amount of time Connor has left himself to deal with his trauma, but he doesn't voice them. Connor has a therapist for that, Mitch's job is just to be a supportive friend. 

He nudges Connor's foot under the table. "I'm happy to take you, just let me know what time you want to go," he says. "And Connor?" 

Connor finally looks up. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for trusting me."

They drive to the Leafs' practice facility first thing in the morning. Connor's hoping the early hour will mean there aren't too many people around. 

From the outside it just looks like a big building. There's only one other car in the parking lot when Mitch pulls in. He parks and glances over at Connor.

"You ready?" Mitch checks.

Connor makes himself nod. "Yeah," he says, reaching for the door handle. "Let's go."

Mitch leads the way through a maze of hallways, nodding greetings to the few staff members they pass and otherwise keeping up a constant stream of chatter about the doors they pass and where to find things.

Connor forces himself to try to pay attention. He only absorbs maybe half the information, but listening to Mitch talk manages to settle his nerves a bit by the time they reach the locker room. 

Neither of them brought gear so they don't need to stop in the locker room. Mitch stops anyway, pointing out meaningless things like the doors to the showers and the coach's office. Connor recognizes what Mitch is doing, giving him a final moment to prepare himself. He might be annoyed if he didn't feel so much like he needed it. 

When Mitch starts to trail off Connor knows he's out of time. He steels himself and pushes through the door leading to the tunnel. 

Connor knows Mitch is following right behind him. That knowledge feels far away though, in a completely different universe from the one where Connor is putting one foot in front of the other, vision tunneling to the ice in front of him and unable to hear anything over his own heartbeat. 

_ Connor was in a tunnel just like this one. He was being wheeled off the ice on a stretcher, watching the grim faces of the medical staff float above him through a haze of pain. _

He pushes down the memories, makes himself keep moving forward. He feels light-headed. There's someone on the ice, he hears the familiar sound of skates over the roaring in his ears. 

_ He skated forward, pushing himself into top gear, and he was already going way too fast when the Flames defenseman hauled him down. His knee slammed into the post with a sick crunch, sending him spinning into the boards. He tried to get up with the help of the medic, but it hurt so much his vision blacked out, and he crumpled back to the ice. _

Connor is on the ground. He's panting like he can't get enough oxygen.  _ Oh _ , he's hyperventilating. He tries to make himself stop and take a deep breath, but it's not working. 

He feels a hand take his, holding it against something. Someone's chest. Mitch's chest. Connor can feel Mitch's heartbeat, his chest moving as he breathes. He tries to copy it, doesn't quite get it right but it's an improvement on whatever he was doing before. 

He thinks Mitch is talking to him. He can't understand the words but he can hear Mitch's voice now. It's low, soothing, and Connor lets it wash over him and just breathes. 

His senses come back slowly. 

"... I'm here, I'm just gonna keep sitting here and breathing with you, you're doing really good," Mitch is saying when Connor comes back to himself. His vision slides into focus and he meets Mitch's eyes. 

Mitch's lips turn up in the tiniest smile Connor's ever seen on his face. "Hey, there you are," he says. 

Connor has to clear his throat before he can croak out, "Sorry."

"No, hey, you didn't do anything wrong," Mitch protests, but he gives himself away when breaks eye contact, blinking a few times in quick succession. His voice is a bit more normal when he continues, "You just scared me a bit, is all. Do you want to get out of here?"

Connor nods, and lets Mitch pull him to his feet. He suddenly doesn't want to let go of Mitch's hand once they're standing, afraid he'll get lost in his head again if he's not tethered down. Mitch doesn't try to take his hand back though, just walks along beside him at Connor's pace. 

Mitch starts up a stream of conversation again like he did on the way in, this time musing about what they should order for dinner. At one point he stops to ask, "Do you want me to shut up? I can stop if this is like, really not helping."

But it  _ is _ helping, is the thing. It's helping more than Connor expected, so he says, "No, you're good," and Mitch continues on.

When they get to the car Mitch lets go of Connor's hand so they can both get in. He's still chatting as they pull into traffic, and he keeps taking his eyes off the road to glance over like he's worried Connor's going to disappear. 

On an impulse, Connor interrupts to ask, "Can I hold your hand again?" 

He's pretty sure Mitch isn't going to say no. He's right, Mitch immediately holds his right hand out over the console and Connor laces their fingers together. 

"There," he says, "now if I start freaking out again you'll probably feel my grip change, so you don't have to keep taking your eyes off the road."

He gives Mitch a pointed look, but also squeezes his hand so Mitch will know he isn't really mad. 

"Yeah, but now I'm driving with one hand," Mitch argues, squeezing Connor's hand back.

"I'll take my chances."

When they get home Mitch puts on Planet Earth again. He expects Connor to want some time to himself, so he’s surprised when Connor sits down next to him on the couch. Within minutes though Connor is slumping over, his exhaustion winning out over everything else. 

Mitch carefully shifts them until Connor’s head is in his lap and tugs the blanket off the back of the couch to lay over Connor. He watches two episodes that way and is partway through a third when Connor starts to stir. 

Mitch starts to pull his hand back from where he was messing with Connor's hair, but Connor tilts his head to follow the motion. "Feels nice," he mumbles, not looking at Mitch. So Mitch goes back to scratching his scalp, and they finish the episode. 

When it's done, Mitch makes Connor move so he can get up and make them lunch. Connor follows him into the kitchen, hovering close by until Mitch gently pushes him onto a stool and puts a sandwich on the breakfast bar in front of him. The food triggers something in Connor, and it's like Mitch is just watching him wake up now even though he stopped sleeping half an hour ago. A focus comes into Connor's eyes that wasn't there before and Mitch can feel the weight of his gaze even as he turns away to make his own sandwich. When Mitch sits down Connor turns to face him. 

"Thank you," he says. 

Mitch starts to say, "No problem," but Connor cuts him off. 

"I mean, not just for making me lunch," he continues in a rush, like he has to get it all out at once. "Thanks for coming with me today, and helping me calm down, and like, literally moving out of your apartment where you were perfectly happy just so that I would move out of my parents' house. There's probably a bunch of other things you do for me that I'm not even thinking of!" He's a little flushed as he pauses for a breath. "So just—thank you."

"I didn't just move for your benefit, dude," Mitch says, deflecting. "It was all a long con so I can get you to watch my dog when I'm away."

"But you don't have a dog," Connor says, looking confused.

"Not yet I don't." 

Connor rolls his eyes but Mitch can see him fighting down a smile, which was his goal in the first place. 

Later, Connor emails his trainers and CCs Jen. 

_ Hi everyone, _ he writes. 

_ I'm writing to keep you all up to date on my recovery. Physically, I'm probably ready to get back on skates, but I still have some mental blocks I need to work on. I will be working more on this with my therapist, and in the meantime I'll try to do some roller-blading so that I don't lose any of the progress we've made.  _

(Mitch actually mentioned the idea of roller-blading a few days ago, and Connor can't believe he didn't think of it sooner). 

_ I don't have a timeline yet for how much longer it will be before I'm on the ice. I'll let you know when there's an update. _

_ Regards, _

_ Connor McDavid _

He checks over the email once to make sure there aren't any typos, and then hits send before he can second guess himself and throw in an apology. Half the reason he copied Jen on the email was to remind himself not to fall into bad habits like apologizing for things that are out of his control. 

With that done, he puts his phone away and looks up in time to see Mitch walking in from the kitchen, drinking a glass of water as he goes. Connor gets caught up in the line of Mitch's neck for a few seconds too long, watching his throat work as he chugs the last few drops, and he doesn't manage to look away in time before Mitch catches him staring. 

Mitch looks almost as affected as Connor. He clears his throat and asks, "'Sup man?" as he comes over to sit on the couch, setting his now-empty glass carefully on the coffee table. 

"Just emailed the team, told them I'm not ready to get on the ice," Connor admits. It comes out a bit shakier than he intended. 

"Oh," Mitch says. "That's… I mean, it's not  _ good _ , but it's like, good that you're giving yourself more time. Like, I'm not glad that you're not ready, but I'm–"

"It's okay," Connor cuts in, sitting up. "I get it." 

He feels overwhelmingly fond, and all of the sudden he's tired of wondering. He shifts closer, and sees Mitch mirroring the movement. Connor doesn't know which of them actually closes the distance, maybe it's both of them, but he's not focused on that because now they're kissing.

It's not rushed, or frantic. It doesn't feel sudden, because in a way it feels like they've been moving towards this for a while. It's sweet. Mitch's hand comes up to thread through Connor's hair, while Connor's own hand cups Mitch's jaw, and for a few moments it's like they're the only people in the world. 

When they pull back Connor doesn't open his eyes right away. He wants to savour this for another second or two first. When he finally looks, Mitch's warm gaze is still there in front of him, not trying to get away. "We should probably talk about this, right?" Mitch asks. 

"Do we have to?" Connor whines. 

"Will it make it easier if I start?" Mitch asks. Without waiting for an answer, he continues, "I really like you." He's looking at his hands now, a bit fidgety. "I'm like, not really a hookup kind of guy, and I'm guessing that's not what this is for you either because you probably wouldn't pick the guy you just moved in with if you were looking for a one-time kind of thing." He glances up, checking Connor's expression. "Right?"

"Yeah," Connor says, relieved. And then, because fair's fair, "I really like you too." 

He smiles at Mitch, feeling a little bit like he's been thrown back to 2015, meeting Dylan's new friend who can't keep his hands to himself. It's different now, they're different people who know each other so much better than they did then, but Connor feels shy and excited all over again. 

"Cool," Mitch says, grinning back. "Wanna watch some more Planet Earth?"

When Connor agrees, Mitch tugs him closer and manhandles Connor until they're cuddling, Connor's head on Mitch's chest. As David Attenborough tells them all about seasonal forests, Connor finds his attention drifting. For a moment it's like he can see the rest of his life stretched out in front of him. 

One day, getting back on the ice, maybe taking a job with the Leafs as a skills coach once his contract is paid out. Obviously he could just retire if he invested his money well, but Connor doesn't think he'll ever be able to stay away from hockey. And maybe it would be nice to work with Mitch, get to know his friends on the team. Coming home to nights like this, comfortable with Mitch, maybe a dog or two curled up at their feet. 

The only sticking point in Connor's fantasy is Dylan. For all that he's struggled with his recovery, he's had a pretty perfect summer with two of his best friends and Connor doesn't want to lose it. Dylan's already back in Chicago, how long will it be before Connor sees him again?

A horrible, selfish thought: what if their friendship changes now that Connor and Mitch are together? Connor hasn't had any problem these past few months being close with Dylan even though he has Alex, so he knows it's not fair to assume that Dylan will treat the situation differently, but he worries a bit anyway. 

On the other hand, maybe he and Mitch can plan double dates with Dylan and Alex when they're in town. Maybe Dylan will bring Alex home when he retires, settle down in the GTA, and they can all grow old together.

All of that is in the distant future, though. For now, Connor refocuses on the TV and enjoys the warmth of Mitch's arm around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Connor has a panic attack and there is a (fairly non-graphic) description of his injury. It starts at _Connor knows Mitch is following right behind him._ and ends at _Mitch's lips turn up in the tiniest smile Connor's ever seen on his face._

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on twitter @[alexdetwinkat](http://twitter.com/alexdetwinkat) or tumblr @[tylerennis](http://tylerennis.tumblr.com)


End file.
